Perception is Everything
by Dawn Ryder
Summary: Everyone sees the world differently. These are my attempts to peer inside my favorite boys' and their Knight Captains heads. Inspired by KaanaMoonshadows phenomenal artwork, "Shouldn't I tell her?"
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I stood upon the terrace, and watched the activities below me winding down with the day. It was almost sundown, and the caravan merchants were securely stowing their remaining wares for travel. Shortly, I knew they would be headed for the inn. It seems that Sal at the bar would enjoy one more prosperous evening before the wagons left in the morning. I noted the other permanent merchants exit their shops, locking up for the evening. Business had been brisk for both the caravans and shops with more and more settlers arriving. A few small villages had cropped up within the keep's lands, created from the refugees fleeing the shadows of the mere. The villagers needed a new start, and wanted their homes built close to someone who could protect them. The lands of this keep, as of late, were chosen. The bandits that once plagued the outer lands had been routed, and the cobblestone roads repaired. There was fair enough merchant trade and caravans to generate stable revenue in either goods or crops. The word had spread that the captain of this keep was once as common as they themselves. Now, she was nobility, doing amazing deeds, and had a great destiny to fulfill. It gave those fleeing the poisonous, creeping shadow the confidence to begin their lives again. Those same words, and thoughts of destiny gave me cold chills.

I noticed one of the guards walking the outer walls lifting his collars before blowing the warmth of his breath onto his clasped hands. The wind had picked up from the slight breeze of this afternoon, and had turned chilly. The banners of Nasher and the Nine snapped smartly upon the towers rising above the ramparts where the guard strolled. There was the crispness of fall in the air. I didn't think it would be long before the overcast dreariness of winter set in. Tomorrow, I'll remember to wear the wool tunic.

For the past month, I have come to this place every night at sunset, and remain here until the second gate watch arrives at midnight. I feel more secure, standing watch here myself, until the fresh shift of guards enters the towers. I understand soldiers, and I understand men. I have been a soldier too long, and have lead too many men not to know their minds. The relative quiet of the last few weeks had placed them into an almost comfortable lull. A routine. I know that at this hour, the current guard will be growing weary after a long day of the watch. Their thoughts would be set on the hot meal, the mug of ale, and the family waiting for them when their relief arrived. I couldn't blame the guards for that. That's where my mind would be, if I had such a thing to return to.

My small balcony has all but been forgotten in the renovations of the keep. Our preparations for war did not afford time or expense for repairing such esthetic luxuries. It was little more than decoration in the original castle design, a place for the current master to sit and reflect upon his holdings. One could imagine those noble-bred captains of the past looking out, glass of wine in hand, basking in all that was theirs. The placement afforded a good view of the gates and encompassing farmlands. The Lord of the Keep would be secure in that they observed their domain relatively unnoticed. The small stone wall surrounding the balcony largely shielded anyone from the eyes of the peasants and merchants on the grounds. The wall was in disrepair now, bits of stone and mortar littered the cobbled floor. The original, ornately carved sterling railing still remained atop the wall. The rail carried no lingering shine of its past glory, and was now covered in the black patina silver acquires with time.

As I found it, my terrace contained only a small stone bench. It was wide and stable, and extremely heavy. Any other pieces that might have accompanied it must have been destroyed in War. Since then, the keep had been left in its ruined state, the vegetation taking over, and the walls crumbling with the passing of the seasons. She's done remarkably well with the renovations. The outer walls had been her first priority for repair. We needed defenses first and foremost. Eventually, the other bits and pieces came together – the rebuilding of the merchant shops, inner rooms of the keep and the rebuilding of the surrounding roads. I could see the red rays of the sun reflecting off the large symbol of Tyr at the temple she had constructed. The captain had advised she had the church reconstructed to reflect the keep's dedication to the ideals of justice and good. It would prove to be a good morale builder for the troops, and the citizens that lived here. I cannot argue her logic in this. I do feel my devotions and my...difficulties…in returning to my Deity's temple in Neverwinter may have played a part in her choice to rebuild as well. On two levels, the sight of it always warms my heart.

My evenings here on this balcony were my attempts to keep her safe. It was just precaution. I knew that the final battle could come at any time. From my perch here, I could see any signs of trouble coming for miles. Likely further than the tired guards could. I could be on the foregrounds in minutes, should undead armies arrive via the gates. I could also be weapon ready at her chamber door in seconds, if she had need of me.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

This inn is packed with people. It's loud. Stinks like unwashed bodies and stale ale. Not the way I like it. At all. Merchants from those stupid caravans have left me alone in my corner though. Smart.

Debating putting an arrow between the bard's eyes. Didn't expect much, from something named Daerred. The guy is all drama – well, I think it's a guy. Bright purple tunic, lacy pants, feathery cap, bright white gloves. Loser. And what a ridiculous song. According to him, our captain is some sort of goddess, with streaming hair of flames, and her icy eyes will freeze you on sight. Shows he hasn't seen her on the road, going without a bath for a fortnight. The reality? The mop on top her head was more the color of bruised cherries, the red parts only stand out in the sunlight. Don't know where he got the "streaming" from, either. It reached just past her shoulders, and curled under where it's heavy at the bottom. When she doesn't have it tied back, it frames her face. Well, until it gets annoying, and she secures a few strands behind her ears. Her eyes are blue. At least he got the color right, but freeze you? Ha. She doesn't have any magic at all. She'll tell you herself that she couldn't cast an acid arrow with Melf himself screaming the proper incantation in her ear. I figure it's got something to do with that chunk of metal in her chest. Might be sucking the magic out of her, or whatever. Who knows. Really, she is just a girl.

Don't get me wrong. She's no troll, by any means. Probably stands a hand shorter than me. Red hair, big blue eyes, high cheekbones, nose is actually straight. Right eyebrow lifts slightly when she's getting aggravated. Might have baited her once or twice just to see it happen. She's pretty enough to get cat calls from the boys on the docks. Must be something about a woman in a watch uniform. And don't get me started about how she's got that paladin twisted up in knots. Every conversation turns out the same. Doesn't have to talk to her for very long before he loses all his pretty words. She'll just pat her paladin on his head, tell him "don't worry, you are wonderful." Gives our Holy Warrior some rather unholy mental images, I think. He'll spout off something about Old Owl Well, run back to his corner, and burrow back into his self-flagellating head. Hilarious. Seriously, he needs to get laid. I just won't let it be by her.

And yeah, so what if I wouldn't mind scratching that itch. I've seen her looking at me. She knows the offer is there. I know she's thought about it taking me up on it more than once, too. Throws the innuendos right back at me, and bats the eyelashes quick enough. Hasn't let me go too far, or get too close, though. Probably figures she has me sized up. The thrill of the hunt is in the chase. I'll lose interest and get bored if she's easy to take. Smart girl. 

I guess that is what's kept her alive this long. She's smart. Sizes up a situation and all the angles pretty fast. Charismatic. Can pretty much talk her way out of anything. Or into something. That's how she handles trouble, whenever she can. Overheard Bevil mention she was able to convince a tribe of lizardlings to pack up and move out of some old ruins so they could get the first shard. That would have been an interesting conversation.

I call her tielco girl. She's not real fond of being compared to the reptile, but it fits. Those little lizards can blend in, and make you think you are seeing a rock, a leaf, a stick – they can look like whatever they need to be to keep from being eaten. I can appreciate her camouflage. Only problem is, most people only get to see what the lizard really is after its dead.

Her personality and manner can change in a heartbeat to suit who she's dealing with. Somebody named her right. Crystal. Sizes people up quick, and pretty much just reflects back whatever is looking at her. Probably how she assembled that ragtag crew that follows her around. She figured out all their strengths and weaknesses. Found something she could take and use in all of them. "Perception is everything," she always says. Probably has something to do with her following Oghma. I'm not sure if she chose to follow him, or if the Lord of Knowledge picked her. She does good by him though. Learns what she can about something, notes all the details, figures it out. Waits for the moment she can use it to present itself. Exacting execution to use it to her own advantage. Some ways, she would have made a good ranger.

Had Neeshka show her how to pick locks. Tiefling said our captain was a quick study. Not a bad skill for her to have, I guess, unless it's your stuff that's locked up. First one she succeeded with was Duncan's "good" wine cellar, that night we brought the farm girl back from Luskan territory. Neeshka sees her as able to recognize and seize an opportunity. Quick and steady hands. They celebrated that little victory with the spoils. Watched them from my table in the corner. Seems our esteemed captain has no head for wine. She is a rather _friendly_ drunk. Duncan wasn't happy with them for the loss of his booze, or me when he found her sitting on my lap. Seems he sees her as a good little niece. A pristine thing the Tiefling and I are corrupting. Told me she's way too good for the likes of me. He's probably right, but whatever. Never stopped me before.

Same story with that uppity, Elven wizard. She spent a day in his shop, learning basic potions. Smart thing to do, if you have zero magic, and tend to play with things that hurt you. By the end of the day, Sand was fussing all over her. Pushed little bottles of bat toes and bee's knees, and gods know what else into her hands. Told her to practice, and bring the finished potions back tomorrow. Playing for more time with her alone, using a brewing excuse. He sees her as an equal in big words, quick sarcastic barbs, and alchemy. And she's easy on the eyes. Good luck with that, pal. He has to be at least 400 years older than her.

That stupid gnome adores her. Rare she will take him out on a mission. He's useless unless you're chasing butterflies, wendersnaven or other nonsense. She spent hours with him in the basement, though. Had enough dangerous chemicals to taint everything alive in an entire forest, and a highly magic book. I figured they were going to blow the place up. Seems they managed to figure out how a blade golem works. Fixed it, too. Yeah, the blade golem that nearly took her head off. Only sliced up her hand a little bit, sharpening the blades. Gnome figures she is a good mechanic, and an inventor. Kindred spirits he says.

The paladin has proven useful for something other than patching her up when she does something stupid. He's trained her with those rapiers she uses. Runs her through the drills every morning. Learned pretty quick that she can't talk her way out of everything. Skeleton warriors aren't inclined to stop and chat over tea. I'll go spar with her once in a while. Give her a fresh opponent. She's a work out for me. Don't tell her that. She tried other weapons. Says anything heavier than the rapier, she'd be cubed before she got her weapon out of the scabbard. She's probably right. Pays to know your limits.

I ran into her "pet" in the basement. Monster magical spider. Fangs the length of my arm. Knits her magic clothes. I asked her, "Why are you always taking in, playing with, taking apart, fixing or tasting something that will probably kill you?" Answer is just more Oghma talk. "I'm learning about it. Knowledge is Power". Yeah sure, sweetheart. One day all that curiosity will probably get you dead. Heard about the orc mountains. "Ooooooooh. A big box of unstable blast globes. Let's take 'em." Brilliant.

Too bad her stupid ideas generally pay off for her. No discouragement by losing digits….so far. Must be the benefits of being one of Oghma's favored souls. She has us pick up and cart around every weird, shiny object she finds. She's worse than a gnome. "I need to get this home and identify it," she says. Gets a little old, but has its uses. Most of the time, it's just junk to pawn. Once in a while, she finds some decent stuff. Good thing she generally drags the man in metal and the dwarf with us. A big sigh, and an exasperated "I simply can't carry all this," brings them running. They think they are rescuing their damsel in distress, putting all her crap in their packs. Really, it turns them into brainless pack mules. I guess she's right. Perception is everything.

She came and found me here at the inn after one of our escapades. She had traded the scale mail she had worn for the last ten-day for a sky blue tunic. It matched her eyes. The druid probably picked it out for her. Our Noble captain, for all her intelligence, has no sense of aesthetics. Had a bath, too. Her hair was down, shiny and framing her face. Smelled like lilacs. Different than the usual tied back, "functional" thing she did with it, anyways. She cleans up pretty good. Turned most of the heads sitting at the bar when she strolled in. One of the stonemasons actually started walking her way with a glass of rose colored wine. Her favorite. Everybody knows it. He was pretty smiley until she sat down nice and close beside me at the otherwise empty table. Quick glare from me had him downing the wine himself, and heading back to the bar. I didn't even have to snarl. There is no doubt who's the Alpha, here.

I know she wanted us alone. She remained quiet until the bartender set her wine glass down on the table. Flashed him her smile, but didn't say a word until he left. She's not fond of an audience either. She set a gold ring with a red stone on the table between us. It's not much to look at, really. She called it a "Ring of Power". Said she wanted me to have it. I pushed it back towards her, reminded her that something worth that much is far too binding, and I have no intention of sticking around that long. She told me it has health regeneration, stuff like that on it, and she pushed the ring back in my direction. I leaned in close to her. Close enough to smell her hair and skin, and to feel her soft breath on my face. I kept my eyes on hers. "There's no worries about my stamina, baby." Close enough to feel the heat from her blush. She didn't back away, and didn't break our connection. I offered to take her to my room here at the inn if she needed to research. I could prove just how "healthy" I was. I moved away from her then, adjusted position. Leaned back in my chair, clasped my hands behind my head. I watched for her reaction. Wanted to catch every subtle movement she made, figure out where she stood. She surprised me. She wasn't very subtle at all. I could almost feel the trail those blue eyes left, as if she had run her fingers over me instead of just her eyes. She slowly looked over my chest, my arms, and my shoulders. Her gaze lingered on my lips, before she finally met my eyes. She wore this sort of half smile. The kind of smile that told me there was a myriad of interesting possibilities running through her head. Unfortunate she censored them internally as she took another sip of her wine. It took a few minutes before she finally spoke. Carefully chosen words. She expressed that she had no doubt that I had many interesting and worthwhile … physical capabilities. However, she had other purposes in mind for the trinket. Damn. Spell broken. Back to business. She said it might come in handy if we really get into it with the Luskans, or stumbled upon a shadow reaver and some troops of undead. Every other day, there are new things that seem to jump out of nowhere and want her dead. She went on that it was really in her own best interest to keep her on-road food supplier and lead scout alive. She drained her wine, stood up and headed back to the keep. She left the ring on the table. Made me think. I really couldn't fault her reasons. If I'm dead, the rest of them wouldn't last long. They'd run around in circles until they starved to death. Might be in my best interests to wear it, too. If things go really wrong, I can leave them all behind. Slip off somewhere, have the magic heal me, and then disappear for good. She changed my mind about that little bauble. Made it a tool of escape, instead of a shackle to her. Damn, she's good. I decided to wear it, for now. It's got nothing to do with Crystal. I can pawn it later if I want to. It just makes sense. Pure business. Absolutely nothing to do with her at all.

Almost sunset. Light will be too low to deal with the bookwork and parchment of the keep. Her back will be sore, hunched over that desk. She will be off to walk the grounds on her daily inspection, checking the progress of the renovations.

My tankards empty. I don't want to be here anymore. Think I'll just "run into" her in the courtyard, and do the tour with her. That should twist the paladin on the balcony nicely. I know he watches. Saw him there weeks ago, and have seen him there every night since. Stalker.

Chill in the air tonight. Storm coming. I see our Captain has left the keep without her pretty little knight's cloak. I'll offer her mine to keep her warm. Think I'll even give her sore shoulders a little soothing rub while I'm putting the cloak on her. Make it a good show for the paladin. I won't need the cloak myself for a bit. The waves of rage coming from that little balcony should keep me toasty for a while


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That cape is probably full of disease! Why is she letting him defile her like that? How dare you place your hands on her! The sight of him touching her is revolting! He himself is far more poisonous than even that filthy cloak!

I don't know why she lets him get within three strides of her, let alone carry on with us. I have warned her several times that the man is dangerous. The constant overt lechery alone turns my stomach. Can she not see the predatory look in his eyes? It is obvious to me that ranger is toying with her. Stalking her. How long before he tires of the hunt, and takes his prey by force? He is far more beast than man, and a highly unpredictable animal at that. Why can't she see what he's doing?

The ranger and I have had a few heated discussions about our Captain. I know he is baiting me, looking for a reaction. My feelings for her are none of his concern. He uses my past and my own personal courses of action to prove how I am not deserving of her. It goads me to see the conclusions I have already come to spoken aloud by _him_. I will endure his snide remarks about me. What I cannot abide by is his dissertation of her. He is highly disrespectful, in both speech and action. He refuses to address her by the titles and honors she has been granted. The ranger is not worthy enough to speak her name, let alone discuss her motives. It takes all my strength and will to refrain from strangling the life out of him. It is for her I walk away.

I have tried to discuss the subject of the ranger with the captain on more than one occasion. She listens to my arguments, as she always does. I leave out some of the details not fit for her ears, but I know she understands my views. Yet, with all the evidence presented against the cad, she asks for my tolerance. She points out that he is the best tracker she's seen, next to her foster father. I am loath to admit that his skills have aided our quests on more than one occasion, but it does not change the fact that he is here for his own selfish reasons. His kind does not know loyalty, and do not understand the concept of greater good. Nothing from him will come without a cost. I anticipate it will be our Knight Captain paying the price before long. Some souls are just too far gone for redemption. I will be vigilant.

I think in her heart, the captain has noble intentions. It is her way. My Lady tries to see people for what they are, instead of the persona they portray. She has helped every one of our band accomplish great things. All of us had personal goals and needs, everyone very different. Our captain has been able to help and unite us. She was able to see the pieces we were, and how each could fit into the larger picture.

I had known very few followers of Oghma. The Binder of all that is Known generally drew frail, bespectacled old men, or bards as disciples. The ancient men remained in their libraries, spending their days pouring over books. They were little more than reservoirs of the knowledge others had gathered. The bards plied their trade in taverns, regaling all with overly dramatized, heroic deeds of the past. Their tales were far more fiction than useful history. My Lady fits somewhere between the two extremes. She is a colorful splotch in what seems to be a rather black and white following.

"To view a situation objectively, it needs to be seen from every angle. What is seen from one facet is rarely seen from the next." We affectionately call it "Crystal's Creed".

Shortly after we joined forces at Old Owl Well, I asked Crystal about her beliefs. We were sitting at the campfire, after dinner. If I recall correctly, it was our first chance to speak alone. It was a clear night, soft summer breeze blowing. The fire was almost down to embers. It was quiet, except for the sounds of night birds and a snoring dwarf. The tiefling had disappeared. She was likely off rummaging through my pack. I was sharpening my longsword. I hadn't used it in some time, and it had dulled significantly. The war hammer was effective against orcs, the blunt power what was needed to decimate their ranks. After leaving the Well, I switched to my sword. I didn't know what sort of enemies lay in store for us, and decided it safer to go with a blade. My Lady was poking at the fire with a stick, seemingly lost in thought. I asked of her, "Once you have seen your situation from every angle, how do you know which path to take?" My own life had experienced a few incorrect choices. The answer to such a question could prove useful for the future. I was expecting a complex mathematical formula, full of percentages, probabilities and fractions. She stared into fire for a few seconds before answering, gathering her thoughts. "Most times, action is not necessary. To learn about, or discover a thing is simply to get to know it, observe it. Action would change it, and the cycle would begin again." She continued to prod the embers, sending sparks into the sky. I pondered her logic, and decided I needed further clarification.

"My Lady, sometimes alteration to the situation is required. How do you know what facet to choose then?" She turned her head, and looked at me. She wore the soft, half-smile that I have grown to know as hers. Her eyes are where her smile resides, and they sparkled now in the firelight. "Sir, when action is required to alter a situation, simplicity is key. Use common sense. In dire straits, choose the option that is least likely to get you killed. In decisions not posing any bodily harm, choose the path that looks like it would be the most fun, within the realm of your good conscience. In either situation – choose something, put your whole heart into it, and hope for the best." It was hardly the profound answer I was expecting.

The captain and I have had many interesting discussions and debates over the past year we have traveled together. Our subjects are varied and diverse. She is quite well educated, and can be very eloquent when she chooses to be. Contrarily, she can also be gleefully childish with new toys, objects, or problems to ponder. I guess I could only describe her demeanor as being "somewhat chaotic." For the most part, her actions are good, responsible, and noble. She soothed a frightened child, and agreed to rescue her older sister from a bad crowd of "boys" in the crypts of Neverwinter. The mission turned rather dangerous. We encountered a host of evil abominations, as well as the malicious cult. What possessed these teenagers to dabble in black arts is beyond me. We redeemed those we could, and put an end to the rest of them and subsequently, the cult. We immediately took the books of evidence to Nasher at the castle. Our duty was done. The Nine and the Neverwinter guard would investigate further. On our way out, as we passed the academy, Crystal pried open a crate of captured imps. She knowingly and willingly set the creatures free to terrorize the prestigious Blacklake District. She observed the nobles running everywhere to escape the imps, then left town. I don't know what she was thinking! Amusing as it was, disliking their trainer does not seem to be a good enough excuse to warrant the action. It caused quite an uproar. I learned there that her good conscience could be somewhat stretchy at times.

A new mission is always an experience, for sure. She becomes a very different person. She sheds the "boss" skin easily, and once again we are back to just a band of comrades. Well. Most of us are. I am quite happy that she brings me on almost all the missions. I enjoy watching the adventurous side of her. She will spend the traveling hours learning the flora and fauna from Elanee, their benefits and uses for tinctures and the like. Quite often, we "encounter something on the way to our destination…" Assassins. Trolls. Pixies. Bugbears. I never know what she will find next. She takes it all in stride.

While at "home", as we have come to see it, her duties are first and foremost. Time is rather elusive for the Captain when we are stationed at the keep. She slides into her role as Knight Captain very easily – coordinating the reconstruction and renovations of the keep, making quick decisions about her grey-cloaks, keeping the bookwork and parchment up to date. I know Lieutenant Kana appreciates her quick decisions, and attention to detail. Those very things Kana appreciates make it difficult to have a real conversation here, though. Our morning sparring sessions seem to be the most time I get with her. I know she will put off other, probably more important meetings so she can meet me. I think she enjoys our time together as much as I do.

I will freely admit now that was at Old Owl Well to escape. I could lose myself in the onslaught. The orcs called me the "Katalmach" – one who loses himself in battle. It was easy to disregard my past, my oaths, and my faith. None there knew who I was. None cared. Perhaps I could find redemption in the fight, protect and free the innocent that inhabited there. If I fell in battle, so be it. I would have welcomed a martyr's death. It was far preferable to the life of a traitor I had to look forward to back in Neverwinter. I was planning to go after the orc leader myself. I needed to ensure the safety of my people first, by taking care of all the small orc scouting parties scattered throughout the mountains. Once they were gone, I would find a way to disengage myself from my troops and attempt the mission. It would likely be suicide. If I could take out part of the clan before I fell, Nasher's greycloaks could do the rest.

It was serendipity that she arrived on those mountains when she did. Her group sought a means to an end with this mission, simply a way to get into the quarantined Blacklake district. I was looking for an end to my means. At the time, I wondered if her presence could prove a hindrance. She had no magic. She wasn't large and strong. Her skill with her rapiers I would have described as adequate, at best. The crest of Oghma on her breast was not comforting. It was good to see she had faith, but doubted the Orcs would cease their activities for a lecture on philosophy or history. She traveled with Khelgar, Neeshka and the gnome Grobnar. They were an unlikely group for a foray into the dangerous mountains. It was no matter. They were as determined to see it though as I.

That single event, that mission, proved to be the turning point of my life. Only now, reflecting upon it, can I see the significance. I am certain Tyr had a hand in placing her on that mountain that day. My redemption for my past comes from service to her. The destiny Crystal has to fulfill is greater than any I could have imagined. Every action, every mission, every encounter made was all for the preservation of Faerun. There could be no greater good than that. I have been given the opportunity to redeem my mind and my soul, using the gifts Tyr gave me to help her. For a paladin, this is everything. It seems I have been granted salvation on a different level as well. As a man, I had resolved myself to keeping my heart indifferent and cold. I had no need for distractions, and the downfalls they could bring. Katriona had difficulties understanding how I could only see her as a lieutenant, a soldier. I needed to explain to her that our relationship, on my side, was fully professional. I had no wish or desire to pursue anything further than that. I was fixated on my mission, and my purposes at the Well.

It took some time for me to understand it, but my pledge to her changed everything. No longer do I wish for death. Quite the opposite, really. The benefits life can offer seem endless. Easily, I can see myself falling into a realm of being together, a family, a LIFE. I have attempted, on a few occasions to discuss these things with her. For all my education, training, and experience, a conversation on a personal level proves difficult. The words don't come easily, and I change the subject. We have trust, camaraderie – essentially, we are extremely good friends. Should I risk losing that, for the chance of something more? If she doesn't feel the same way, would my confession alienate her? Change things? I couldn't bear to lose her. Perhaps it is better to remain silent, and maintain what I have already.

Finally. The chat with Veedle, and then she will proceed into the keep for the night. Send the ranger back to his hole, please. Ah good. Give him back that filthy piece of cloth, and be gone from him. A glass of wine with the girls, wind down from the day, and then back to her chamber to retire for the nite.

A few more hours, and the new watch will be on. I'll wait, and watch here until then. I will make my own rounds on the way back to my room. Yes, it takes me past her chamber. I will likely see the light on, under the door, and will hear the scratch of the quill behind it. I will hesitate there for a moment, confirming all is well before I continue ahead down the corridor to my own chambers. I will take comfort in the fact that she is safe and warm. That small comfort is all I really need.


End file.
